


a silent poetry

by mysweetbologna



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dancer AU, F/M, M/M, Multi, Voltron, the pro dancer au no one asked for, voltron legendary defender - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-06-27 00:42:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysweetbologna/pseuds/mysweetbologna
Summary: Keith Kogane, harboring anger and spite that his best friend left him behind, lives a new and quiet life studying at Portland State University with his new friends Pidge and Hunk. His much needed break from his career as a competitive and professional dancer comes to an end when Takashi Shirogane returns from two and a half years abroad. Determined to show Shiro what he's missing out on, Keith pursues the national title with his former dance partner. Off the dance floor, tension between Keith and Shiro threatens to break down the few remains of their friendship. Spite wears out though, and tension dissolves.





	1. a collapsing star

Keith sipped his third iced latte of the day, regretting his decision to brave the late September heat wave rather than lying in bed in only a pair of boxers. His professors wouldn’t accept ‘sorry, it was too hot and I was miserable’ as an excuse for not finishing his homework, so there he sat, stumbling through what should have been a simple physics assignment. Instead, the words in his textbook made little sense, no matter how many times Keith tried to make sense of them. Pidge was late meeting him, no doubt preoccupied by whatever new video game their brother sent them. They were, after all, the one that convinced Keith to look into the astro program after a drunken confession about wanting to pilot a space ship.

When all that was left of his drink was ice and watered down espresso, Keith slammed his textbook closed, frustrated by his lack of productivity. He contemplated getting in line for another coffee for the walk back to his apartment. Keith remembered fondly when he hated the taste of coffee and didn’t depend on it to make it through the day. Most college kids probably said that though.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Pidge slid into the chair across from him, the grin on their face saying that they weren’t really all that sorry. Keith waved it off with minimal irritation. If not for Pidge, he without a doubt would have dropped out of the university a long time ago. “I was watching this thing on YouTube where this guy made a working lightsaber and it doesn’t look that difficult. Hunk and I might try to put one together next weekend if you want to help.”

“Can’t. It’s my uncle’s birthday and we’re going camping.” Pidge’s lips curled in a sour expression, their distaste of the outdoors made clear. “I’ll leave the nerd shit to you two.”

“I remember very clearly a heated discussion about who shot first, Keith.”

“It was Han and you know it,” Keith protested, much to Pidge’s pleasure. Simply having Pidge sitting across from him helped with his focus; the assignment made infinitely more sense than it had before and Keith powered through it as if he hadn’t spent the last three hours reading the same sentence. A companionable silence settled between them, Pidge checking in every so often to see if he needed help.

When Keith first made the decision to go to college, he had only his uncle to tell. The life he lead had been a lonely one, save for the friendships with his dance partner and his mentor. As a competitive dancer from the tender age of six, Keith’s life before university revolved around mastering different styles of dance. His father discovered Keith’s natural talent for the sport after taking toddler Keith to the local rec center. He claimed that Keith was mesmerized by the tango lesson happening, imitating the dancers’ steps with an unusual grace for a five year old. Keith enrolled in lessons the next week and the rest was history. Of course, things changed once Keith started competing nationally, but his love for his craft outweighed the desire for close friendships.

Having Pidge as a friend ushered in a new world of socialization that Keith just wasn’t used to. With Pidge came Hunk, and with Hunk came weekly dinner with his family, trivia nights at their favorite bar, and a feeling of camraderie that Keith hadn’t felt in years. Knowing that he could always count on Pidge and Hunk to be there comforted him in a way that nothing else ever had.

Two hours passed before Keith finished his assignment, with some help from Pidge. The paper was messy and featured an abundance of erase marks, but it was done and that counted for something, right? Pidge glanced at him over the top of their glasses, thin metal framed things that were suddenly fashionable again.

“You done?” Keith nodded and leaned back in his chair, balancing on its rear legs. He watched the coffee bar longingly while Pidge worked on their own homework. “Did you hear the news?”

Once again distracted from his quest for more caffeine, Keith sat upright in his chair.

“What news?”

“That famous dancer friend of yours is in town. Takashi?”

His name was the key to a closet Keith locked up two and a half years ago and hadn’t opened since. The betrayal he internalized still felt raw, despite the time that passed and his break from dancing. Pidge and Hunk knew about his career prior to starting at university and they knew that he had been friends with the great Takashi Shirogane, but that was about the extent of it. Keith preferred to keep that part of his life separate from his new one. That didn’t stop his new friends from teasing him about it good-naturedly.

“That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“One of the blogs I follow wrote an article about him. I guess he spent the last two years in Japan training and being with his family.” Pidge kept on, however Keith didn’t hear the words they spoke. An irrational anger bubbled up inside him. What did he care that Shiro finally returned? The way Keith saw it, their friendship ended the moment Shiro left without even saying goodbye, dashing any hopes Keith might have had. Takashi Shirogane, Keith’s closest friend and mentor, picked up and moved to Japan right before the biggest competition of Keith’s life.

“Keith, are you listening?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry.”

“Did he say anything to you about coming back?”

“No, I haven’t heard from him since he moved.” Pidge frowned at that, their forehead scrunching up in consideration. It was easy to see that Pidge had questions that they were dying to ask and Keith was greatful they didn’t. The campus library wasn’t the place he wanted to unpack his anger and sadness regarding Takashi Shirogane.

“You always avoid talking about him,” Pidge stated as an observation more so than friendly concern. Despite only having eyes for the astro program, and for Hunk, Pidge had the uncanny and frightening ability of accessing situations or people that cut to the bone. Thanks to his uncle, Keith learned pretty quickly how to masterfully avoid uncomfortable subjects and focus on what was important.

“Hey, I’m going to head out. I’ll see you later.”

“Keith-”

Keith didn’t stay to hear anything else. So maybe he was a little rusty avoiding that which made him feel awkward.

Keith stepped outside, sweat instantly dripping down his back in preparation for the mile long walk back to his apartment. He despised the heat and dreamed of when he would be back in Colorado with the dry, cooler weather in the mountains he grew up in. His uncle Kolivan still didn’t understand why he chose to move to Portland for school instead of attending university in his hometown. It was a point of contention between the two of them, one that Keith believed his uncle would no doubt argue about for the rest of his days.

Sure, Keith could have picked an apartment closer to campus, could have paid the higher price tag to be a little closer to the city central. However the draw of having that time to himself when he walked home, the separation of his school life and everything else, was all worth it. That and he didn’t want to break the bank of Kolivan. In exchange for giving up Kolivan paying for his schooling and living expenses in Colorado, Keith agreed to pay for his own schooling, while Kolivan paid for his apartment. Keith still had money coming in from sponsorships and every so often he would dance in a smaller competition for a little extra money. Dancing wasn’t exactly lucrative, but the opportunities that came with it were more than enough to make life a little easier for Keith.

The walk back seemed to take longer that day, the thought of Shiro distracting Keith to the point that his normal brisk pace slowed and he turned down the wrong street three times. The fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about (and worrying about) Shiro being back pissed Keith off more than anything else. Part of him wished that he could just run into Shiro and get it over with. Maybe yell at him a bit, just to show Shiro how angry he still was. Another part of Keith didn’t want anything to do with him. What kind of friend left without saying goodbye? Why did Shiro think that a text message was enough?

Keith deleted the text message after a long month of bubbling meltdowns and episodes of fighting. Of course, he screenshotted it, just so he could remember it whenever he thought about calling Shiro. It served as a reminder that Shiro wasn’t the saint everyone thought him to be, that he was capable of being just as bad a person as every other person on the planet. Spite wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with the situation, Keith was fully aware of that. Enough time passed though that Keith didn’t even think about Shiro. But here he was now, drawn back to that swirling vortex of once-buried emotions surrounding his friendship with Shiro.

It didn’t matter either way. Whatever happened was going to happen whether he wanted it to or not. Keith’s professional career as a dancer was over and nothing, or no one, was going to pull him back into it.

Keith greeted the woman at the front desk of his building who only looked up at him from her book for a second before returning to it. His phone buzzed in his pocket when he fumbled for his keys; it was probably just Lance asking once again what he was supposed to bring over for dinner. Keith admired the younger man. Lance McClain was one of two individuals Keith still spoke to from his life prior to moving to Portland. They would end up at the same competitions every so often and were aqcuaintances at best. Lance tracked Keith down when he heard that he moved, offering him the weird brand of friendship that only Lance could offer. It was also extremely difficult to avoid Lance because his twin sister, Veronica, had been his partner for years.

Veronica was there through the emotional turmoil of Keith’s coming out and being abandoned by Shiro. She encouraged him to take a break from dancing, even if it meant she had to find a new partner for herself. She was the sister Keith never knew he wanted, and Lance the tag-along brother he gained with her.

Immediately after stepping into his apartment, Keith turned on the air conditioning unit he deemed a necessary part of his existence. The wall of windows in his living room made the space even more hot when the sun sat high in the sky. With his backpack and shoes discarded by the front door, Keith crashed onto his sectional. His phone buzzed again as he stared a hole into an exposed wood beam, a purely aesthetic thing. The phone buzzed a third time.

 

 **Lance:** hey

 **Lance:** keith answer your phone

 **Lance:** i have something to tell you and it’s of immense importance. answer your damn phone

 **Keith:** what.

 **Lance:** im supposed to bring a side, right

 **Keith:** yes lance, weve been over this already

 **Lance:** hey, im just making sure

 **Lance:** is it cool if v comes with???? shes visiting and i dont want to leave her behind

 **Keith:** yeah its fine.

 **Lance:** k cool

 **Lance:** also did you hear that shiro’s in pdx??? he has a place near campus i guess. i heard he has a new partner, that girl that used to dance with dick bag lotor. she’s so hot!!!

 **Keith:** yeah pidge told me earlier.

 **Lance:** are you going to call him? you guys were really good friends, he probably wants to see you!!!

 **Keith:** we’ll see. i dont want to bombard him right after moving back

 **Lance:** dude you were best friends….

 **Lance:** i dont think he’ll mind

 **Keith:** i’ll talk to him when i talk to him.

 **Lance:** uh, okay. what does that mean

 

Keith tossed his phone across the couch. First Pidge, now Lance. Why did everyone feel the need to bring up Shiro? All he wanted was to be left alone about that one subject. He felt his phone vibrate with a phone call where it rested on his couch. After all his hard work burying Shiro, it took only two hours for it to start to unravel. He didn’t have a lot of time to think about it though; his friends would be over for dinner soon. The thought crossed Keith’s mind that he could just reschedule it, but he was no coward. Not today at least.

Having his friends sit around the same dining room table was a small salve for a burgeoning wound. Pidge and Hunk made moon eyes at each other throughout most of it and Lance took every opportunity he could to tease them about it. It was sweet really; they couldn’t have been more perfect for each other if they helped it. Veronica watched cooly from the end of the table, her chunky oversized glasses perched on the end of her nose. She gave Keith a knowing look whenever he looked away from Pidge and Hunk, a small quirk of her lips letting him know that she caught him.

Veronica greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, floating into his high rise apartment with the same grace that she danced with. Keith had been in awe since the first time he saw her, Veronica so wholly commanded his attention. They clashed from the beginning what with Veronica’s independent nature and Keith’s abrasive attitude. What was once disdain evolved into mutual respect, into a boundless friendship that weathered the hectic and lonely lifestyle they each chose.

Keith was glad she didn’t bring up her new partner, a man named Kinkade that she seemed to have plucked out of the crowd and turned into a world-class dancer. He wouldn’t admit it, but he watched the livestreams of competitions he knew they danced in. Kinkade was impressive, for sure, but Keith could plainly see that Veronica wasn’t as passionate about it as she used to be. Keith suffered a pang of guilt every time he watched him, knowing full well that he was the single reason they existed in the current situation. Veronica of course, didn’t listen when he tried to apologize.

Pidge laughed at something Lance said, drawing Keith out of his thoughts. Their plates sat empty, satisfied by the thrown together dinner of Hunk’s enchiladas, Lance’s bag of sour cream and onion potato chips, a cheesecake Pidge bought at New Seasons, and Keith’s favorite craft beer. They tried their best to coordinate their meals, but no matter how much planning they did, it never worked out the way they intended. It was dysfunctional, yet Keith wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So, Keith. How’s school?” Veronica picked at the label on her beer bottle, the innocence she radiated a little too heavy to be real.

“Fine I guess. First month is over so now all the professors are riding our asses. How’s the preparation for Pacifica going,” Keith fired back, dying to take the attention off of himself. There was no doubt that Veronica knew what game he played and yet it still worked every time.

“Don’t get me started. Kinkade is great, but he’s no you. He has two left feet and steps on my toes all the time. He fucking dropped me last week.” She shrugged off her gauzy cardigan, revealing a yellowing bruise on her shoulder the size of Keith’s fist. “I’m doing my best to teach him, and so is Sanda but Jesus, it’s like pulling teeth sometimes. But at least he listens to me.”

Keith shrunk under Veronica’s pointed stare. Hunk covered his laughter behind his hand when Lance whooped, cheering on his sister.

“She burned you, Keith!”

“Shut up, Lance.” Keith grinned in spite of the bead of jealousy and guilt that reared its head. Veronica helped him clear the dishes from the table while the others fought over what movie to watch that night. Their quiet bickering was home to Keith.

“You alright, Keith,” Veronica asked quietly, rinsing the dishes that Keith washed. Just like Pidge, she was astute, able to read Keith in spite of his stony front.

“I’m good. Really. Just a lot on my mind today.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry.” Veronica’s soft voice was tinged with sadness, and concern. Keith didn’t doubt she was remembering the fit he threw when he learned Shiro left. Caught red-handed destroying everything in his bedroom, Keith had been volatile, refusing to listen to anyone. Veronica patiently watched from where she stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, waiting for Keith to burn himself out. She asked him if he felt better after breaking all his trophies. He said no, because he was convinced that nothing would ever fill that void. Together they sat on his bedroom floor with Gorilla Glue, piecing the trophies back together until the tears stopped and the anger subsided.

“V, it’s okay. I’m dealing with it.”

“I know you are. I just hope you’re dealing with it differently this time.”

“I haven’t broken anything.” Keith scrubbed at the baked on cheese in a casserole dish. He spoke up after successfully scraping it off and handed the dish to Veronica. “Besides, we haven’t talked since he left. I’ve moved on with my life. I’m happy now.”

“I’m having drinks with him tomorrow night before I head back to LA. You should come with, if you’re up to it.”

“I don’t think that I will, but thanks anyway. I just don’t have anything to say to him.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” Veronica bumped his hip with hers and left him standing at the empty sink with only his thoughts to keep him company.

Drinks with Shiro. It probably wouldn’t be appropriate to show up, get tanked off of gin and tonics, and pick a fight. Especially if any paps were to show up. No, Keith would continue to fly under the radar with his quiet existence.

Keith settled down on the large sectional next to Lance, who was waving the remote in the air, trying to keep it away from Pidge’s reaching hands. Pidge finally gave in after Hunk wrapped an arm around their waist, pulling them close. The menu screen for Rock of Ages came on the TV and Keith readied himself for the next hour and a half of Lance and Veronica picking apart the group dance scenes.

“Hey Keith, did you hear-”

“Yes, Hunk, I did hear! Thanks for bringing it up! I know Shiro is in town, Pidge and Lance already told me today!” Keith yelled a little too forcefully, annoyed that Hunk even had the gall to bring up Shiro. Hunk’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide as Keith ranted.

“I was just going to tell you about the video Pidge and I saw about lightsabers…”

Keith wilted. Shit.

“Shit Hunk, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat. Fucking hell.”

“It’s fine, buddy.” Hunk offered a small, knowing smile. Keith wondered exactly he knew.

Later that night after everyone left, Keith scrolled through the photos on his Facebook page, ones he hadn’t dared to look at in quite some time. The number of times he flashed a peace sign was starting to make him cringe, along with the slick backed pony tail he wore most of the time. He looked happy in the photos with Veronica, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders with abandon, holding up their trophies. There were thousands of the two of them from over the years. The number of photos of Keith and Shiro were fewer, and in each of them, Keith was always looking at Shiro. Keith felt ridiculous looking at them again, seeing that arduous glow on his face as he stared at Shiro and Shiro looked at the camera with that roguish grin.

What was he getting himself into?

 

 **Keith:** it was good seeing you v

 **Veronica:** any time, bb. ive missed you.

 **Keith:** i miss you too. every day.

 **Veronica:** we’ll meet for lunch before I head back, ok?

 **Keith:** sounds good. love you

 **Veronica:** love you too keith

 

And an hour later:

 

 **Keith:** what bar and what time


	2. good in a glass

It was a known fact that Takashi Shirogane possessed determination and willpower unlike any other when it came to his dancing. Determination to be at the top, to move people to tears with the grace of his body, to inspire with a measure of tricky footwork. He kept his body in top performing shape, even though he hated the texture of protein powder and would much rather eat bowl after bowl of noodles. But he had the willpower to say no, to keep training his body and mind to be the best they could be, because without dancing, who was Shiro? No one.

That’s why lying on his new bed in his new apartment made Shiro’s skin itch with restlessness. If he sat still for too long it made him uncomfortable. Surely there was something he could be doing to keep himself busy. There wasn’t, at least not this time. His few meager belongings he brought back from Japan were unpacked, new furniture put together, and the fridge stocked with the necessities. There were no upcoming interviews until the next week, only two social engagements for the next two weeks, and no dance practice until Allura arrived next week. Shiro didn’t know how to sit still and relax and he definitely didn’t know how to spend that time alone.

Shiro watched the overhead fan spin around and around while he wondered what he should do next. He could always go for a run, even though he already ran four miles that morning. There was the state of the art gym in the basement of the apartment building, but he didn’t feel like showering for a second time that day. He hated to admit it, but he didn’t know how to be lazy. His whole life had been spent rushing from one lesson to another, from one side of the country to the other, from the arms of one dance partner into another. Even when he moved to Japan to be with his family, he spent the summer teaching dance and helping out at his grandparents’ restaurant, always on the move. The singularness of Shiro’s existence kept him up at night, parading each and every intrusive thought across the starlit sky.

His regrets were far and few between; Shiro loved his life, loved dancing, loved the feeling of success. One thing he didn’t love? Leaving Keith behind as an after thought. It was a shitty move, one that Shiro struggled to justify, like he could every other thing in his life. He knew he was selfish in what he did to Keith, but he hadn’t cared then. No, he hadn’t cared, because instead he was terrified. Keith scared him to death with that rakish way his hair fell into his eyes when Shiro caught his gaze and the quiet way he spoke. No one looked at Shiro like Keith did and no one spoke to him like that either. The weight of toxic masculinity had settled heavily around Shiro’s shoulders, pulling him down further and further until the only way out was to leave. It was a huge fucking mistake, that much was for sure. A monumental fuck up that he somehow recovered from.

Did Keith know that he moved to Portland? Would Keith even care? Shiro flipped back and forth trying to answer the first of those questions. Of course Keith would know by now: Veronica and Lance told him the moment they found out. Keith read the interview he did with Dance Magazine, saw his face on September’s cover. Or Keith had no clue at all. Maybe Keith stopped following him after he left. The latter was more likely.

He told Veronica first about his decision to move back to the states and it would be a lie to say that she didn’t influence the location. She only mentioned Keith once, refusing to say anything beyond that he was attending Portland State University, he was doing well, and that he hadn’t danced competitively except for four times. Veronica agreed to meet up for drinks since, using his move as a reason to spend a weekend with her brother. Drinks weren’t for another hour and a half unfortunately. Maybe he could take a nap. Who was he kidding, he never napped.

Rather than waste that time starting at nothing, Shiro grabbed his phone and opened YouTube. He quickly typed in Keith’s name. Dozens of videos loaded, the most recent from a year ago when he danced at a competition in Seattle. Shiro didn’t recognize his partner, a red headed woman with heavy eye makup. However he did recognize the choreography. Or pieces of it anyway. Keith took parts of a dance he performed with Veronica that won them gold at junior nationals twelve years ago. The confidence with which Keith moved was so familiar and it felt like nothing had changed at all, except here Shiro was watching him dance on the internet instead of seeing it in person.

One video turned into a second, into a third, until Shiro fell into the rabbit hole of YouTube. Seeing Keith and Veronica’s performances from this perspective was alien. He wasn’t focused on the footwork, the lifts, the technical work. It was easier to appreciate it for what it was: a creative work. After the tenth video and a strong need for a cold shower, Shiro set down his phone in favor of getting dressed.

Shiro changed out of his comfy clothes into his standard outfit of fitted black jeans, half buttoned gray shirt and his favorite boots. He couldn’t even begin to count how many pairs of the same black jeans he owned. There was no point in taming his hair; it would do whatever it wanted even if he used product in it. Besides, meeting Veronica wasn’t an official, sponsored outing; he deserved to be comfortable.

After checking to make sure his cat, Black, had enough food and water, Shiro locked his apartment door behind him and rode the elevator down. The sun was starting to set finally and the heat dissipated enough that it was a nice walk to the roof top bar not too far from where Shiro lived. He would worry about Keith tomorrow; tonight was about reconnecting and learning this new city. A pep in his step carried him down the sidewalk and out into the world.

Departure was one of the best rated rooftop bars on multiple websites on the internet.It boasted a very charming atmosphere with comfortable seating and a beautiful view of the city center that was to die for. Several reviews stated that it was an experience unlike any other, that they couldn’t wait to return. Shiro was running a little late; he couldn’t resist taking in the sights and taking a few pictures to post on Instagram later. He had been to the Pacific Northwest several times, he just never had the time to actually see it. Excitement coursed through Shiro’s body at the thought of this new adventure.

“Good evening, Sir. Do you have a reservation?” A hostess greeted Shiro at the front of the bar.

“I’m meeting Veronica McClain. She should have a reservation for the rooftop.”

“Ah, yes. Ms. McClain arrived just a few minutes ago. If you’ll follow me, please.” The hostess led Shiro up a set of stairs that overlooked the indoor restaurant of Departure. He would have to remember to come back and try the food sometime. Shiro couldn’t remember the last time he went out for himself and not for an event.

“Here you are, Mr. Shirogane. Enjoy your evening.” Veronica turned in her chair, resplendent in a navy jumpsuit and a sparkling smile. Shiro leaned over and kissed her cheek, nervous to spend time with Keith’s dance partner.

“It’s so good to see you, Shiro. How are you settling in?” She took a sip of her drink while Shiro sat down across from her.

“I’m settled, thank God. Thanks for your help with the furniture. It really saved a lot of time. I love the space so far, and so does Black.” Shiro looked out over the rooftop, soaking in what remained of the sun’s light as it sunk even lower into the horizon. The view was stunning, to say the least. He wondered if Keith had ever been here and a small part of Shiro hoped that he hadn’t, so that he might bring him. It was a pipe dream, if there ever was one. “How are things going with Kinkade? I watched a stream of your last competition. Things looked a little…”

“Rough?” Veronica slammed the rest of her drink. “He’s getting better. I think he plans on retiring soon though, so I’m not sure what my next move will be. I’ll worry about it when the time comes.”

“What about Keith?” Shiro signaled the waitress. “A gin fizz, please.”

Veronica watched him appraisingly as the waitress took away her empty glass and replaced it with a full one. Had Shiro said the wrong thing? Was it too soon to ask about him?

“What about him?”

“You two could get together again.” It seemed pretty simple to Shiro, even though he didn’t know why Keith stopped dancing with Veronica. That would be a long story for a different day.

“I don’t think Keith has any intention of returning, Shiro.” He thanked the waitress for his drink , taking a quick drink as an excuse to gather his thoughts. Keith never officially announced his retirement, so why wouldn’t he come back? “Look, things are different now. He’s happy with his life and I want him to stay that way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Veronica was indirectly blaming him, that much was clear to Shiro.

“God, Shiro. I meant it the way I said it. He’s happy. That’s it.”

“He belongs on the dance floor and you and I both know that, Veronica.”

“That’s his decision to make, not ours. Now leave it be. I didn’t ask you out here so we could talk about Keith.” There was more to be said by both of them, but it wasn’t worth the fight, not then. Veronica’s brand of friendship was cool at best, or at least that’s how she treated him. They weren’t as close as Keith and Veronica, or Keith and Shiro once were, but they danced against each other to build enough of a bond to see them through the years. But that’s where the relationship ended: dancing. Sure, Shiro had other hobbies and things that excited him, but they weren’t anything he shared with Veronica. Maybe that would change with time. “When does the princess get in town?”

Shiro scoffed. The dance world named his new partner, Allura Smythe, Princess Allura after her distant ties to a royal European family and the enchanting way she moved. At first it had been funny, entertaining. Once the media caught onto it, that was it. After awhile the charm wore off for everyone and for Allura, but the nickname continued to stick.

“Allura and her uncle will be here next Friday. She’s doing a photoshoot with Dance for their November issue and then she flies out here with Coran. They’ve got an apartment two floors up from mine.”

“That’s very… practical.”

“Coran’s idea, not mine. After what happened with Lotor, I guess he wants to make sure that I’m not going to do the same thing he did. I understand where he’s coming from, but I think that living right by each other is a little unnecessary.”

“Well they aren’t going to be right by you.” Shiro raised his glass in defeat, laughing lightly. He had missed this.“Besides, you’ve had how many partners in the last ten years?”

“Shit, too many. That’s low, Veronica.” She shrugged, finishing the remainder of her second drink. Shiro took his time with his own, dissecting the light grapefruit flavor from the gin and the mint. The rooftop was noticeably busier than when Shiro arrived only a short time ago. He could get used to this life, sitting on rooftops, surrounded by people who don’t know him, a drink in his hand. “Maybe Coran should be worried.”

Shiro ordered a second drink for himself and a third for Veronica, who seemed intent on having more than just a casual drink like he expected. Alcohol affected him differently in Portland than it had on the coasts of Japan; the altitude made him more susceptible to intoxication and Shiro felt a little more loose, more bubbly, and less himself. Veronica didn’t seem phased as she tossed back a third drink, her eyes widening. Whatever she saw caused her to start choking mid-drink.

“Oh shit. Fuck.” Veronica spoke between fits of coughing.

“Veronica, are you alright?” Shiro leaned across the table. She nodded and shortly the coughing subsided. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Shit. I didn’t think-”

Shiro glanced over his shoulder. Any words he might have spoken disappeared, the thoughts gone from his mind. The last thing Shiro expected was to see Keith standing behind him. Was that indifference that Keith wore? Shiro couldn’t be sure.

Keith didn’t give Shiro a chance to recover. He sat down across from Shiro, leaning forward with his arms on the table. Shiro sat speechless while Keith and Veronica said hello, while Keith ordered a gin fizz for himself, unable to process what was happening. What _was_ happening? Veronica laughed at something Keith said, but in slow motion. Not once had Shiro felt this sort of disembodiment and so not in control of the situation.

Veronica set him up. That was the only logical thought running through Shiro’s mind after the shock of seeing Keith after two and a half years. Shiro was conflicted. He felt guilt of course, after the shitty goodbye text he sent to Keith. But underneath that guilt hid something else a little more difficult to define, and whatever that was scared him. And he was also pissed beyong measure at Veronica, no matter how much he deserved this. All Veronica offered in a way of apology was a quick wink and dazzling smile.

What shocked Shiro the most was the insane physical change he saw in Keith. Shiro always used to tease him about his slim, muscular frame. That Keith no longer existed. The time apart had been kind to Keith; he filled out, was more broad than Shiro remembered him ever being, and the baby fat finally left his face, revealing a sharp jawline and cheekbones that made Shiro’s stomach turn. He even cut his hair, getting rid of the little rat tail Shiro found endearing. Gone was the boyish charm, replaced with an otherworldly suave man. Shiro always claimed he didn’t have a type but-

“Shiro?” Veronica interrupted his train of thought. “You alive over there?”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t tell him I was coming,” Keith said, sounding exasperated.

“I wasn’t sure you were actually going to show up.” So it was definitely a set up, just a poorly planned one.

“Veronica…” Keith sighed after drawing out her name. He glanced in Shiro’s direction, his eyes narrowed, lips pursed. Gaurded. That was fair. Shiro deserved that after all. What could he possibly say to Keith to make up for it?

“What brings you to Portland, Shiro?”

Shiro searched for the right words. What brought him to Portland? Keith would see through any lie Shiro might try to tell him, yet he felt compelled to keep the truth from Keith. It wouldn’t be easy to say ‘hey Keith, I missed you like crazy and moved here so we could maybe be together even though I fucked up and hurt you.’ Well, Shiro could, but that wouldn’t go over well, especially when they’re just seeing each other again for the first time in years. And Veronica was there with her judgmental eyes, watching every moment of the awkward interaction like the bird of prey she was. Shiro settled somewhere in the middle.

“I’m settling down out here.” Keith didn’t even bother to hide his eye roll from Shiro. “I’ve always liked the Pacific Northwest and it’s easier to travel back to Japan if I need to. Plus, I know people here and when I decide to retire, I’ll already have a home.”

“Are you? Going to retire?” Both Keith and Veronica seemed a little taken aback by his statement. Keith’s voice went soft when he questioned Shiro.

“I mean I’ll have to eventually. I’ve accomplished a lot and I’m ready to start the rest of my life, like you have.” He wasn’t entirely sure where this was coming from; he hadn’t even discussed this with his family. But now that Shiro spoke the words aloud, he felt a bit of relief rush through him, soothing away some of the fatigue and stress that had built up over the years. The rest of Shiro’s life wasn’t something he liked to think about too often, for the sake of his own sanity. He was thirty-one already, entering the end of his career, and despite how much he wanted to fight it, he would have to cross that bridge soon. Shiro needed to draw the attention away from himself. “How’s school going?”

“It’s fine. I’m in the astrophysics program at PSU and I really like it so far.”

Shiro rested his chin on his hand while Keith went on in detail about his studies. The more Keith told him, the more animated he became, waving his hands around so that he almost spilled the drink he still held. This was the Keith he remembered with fondness, the one who could go on for hours about the things he loved.

“Anyway, it’s a really great school and they’ll help me find an internship so I have better chances of getting into some sort of work with the Garrison base nearby or with NASA.” Keith quieted, looking around sheepishly to avoid eye contact with Shiro and Veronica. Was he embarrassed? He very rarely shared that much with people. Shiro wondered how many people knew that his dream was to go beyond the stars in their galaxy.

“Either one of them would be lucky to have you,” Shiro said, attempting to assure him. Keith brushed it off, sipping from his drink. Shiro pressed his lips together in a tight line, taking the hint. Keith shut that door just as quickly as he opened it. He had always been that way from what Shiro remembered, willing one moment and closed off the next. It was like whiplash for the brain, leaving Shiro wondering what he might say next.

The silence that followed settled stiffly around them. It was awkward and uncomfortable except for the few comments Veronica made about the view, or about her favorite restaurants, trying to start some sort of conversation. Neither Keith nor Shiro partook, instead using the opportunity to cast furtive glances at one another and avoiding speaking. Shiro stopped counting the number of times Veronica rolled her eyes.

“Since you two aren’t going to talk anymore, I’m calling it a night. See you losers later.” Veronica kissed each of their cheeks and waved goodbye, disappearing into the throng of the bustlign rooftop. Keith tapped his fingers against the table.

“So-”

“Don’t fucking bother, Shiro.”

The other shoe fell.


	3. two slow dancers

Maybe snapping at Shiro after Veronica left had been the wrong move, but the vindictive side of Keith didn’t give a shit. Veronica’s text message right after she left warned him to play nice, to keep his temper in check, that _Shiro had his reasons._ Well Keith had his reasons to, namely that Shiro was a huge, self-centered asshole that he still found extremely attractive. His anger and attraction to Shiro were at war, an even match that left Keith confused and grumpy. Part of him wanted to punch Shiro in his pretty, beautiful, perfect face. The other part wanted to be pinned to a wall by Shiro’s arms. The former was more likely.

But he held out. Would his therapist be disappointed that he was reacting with anger rather than sensibility? Absolutely. But talking about how Keith should react, and the actual act of it were two totally different things and it was much more difficult in practice. That reminded Keith that he needed to reschedule his appointment so he could get some help managing the recent developments in his life.

What truly fueled Keith’s anger was the way Shiro looked at him with such abandon and care when Keith told him about his schoolwork. The older man acted as if nothing had changed at all between them, that two and a half years of the boiling rage Keith felt was undeserved, that they were still the same Keith and Shiro that were terrified of each other. Not a lot scared Keith anymore, no. Leaving the competitive world of dancing made it a lot easier to be true to himself, to live his life out of the spotlight. He could date whomever he wanted at his own pace, could kiss them in public without even thinking about someone seeing and caring.

Not that he ever did any of that. Because the one thing he was scared of? Well that stared him right in the face last night. Keith wanted to tell Shiro that his chance was long gone the moment he stepped onto that plane to Japan. But Keith knew that that was a lie. Seeing Shiro only reignited the old flame he had worked so hard to keep doused. The only thing that comforted Keith was the brief hurt on Shiro’s face two nights ago on the Departure rooftop before Keith stormed off to walk back home.

Keith spent the rest of his weekend in the peace and quiet of his apartment and the building’s gym. He dodged Veronica’s calls and texts all weekend, going so far as to put his phone on do not disturb mode. Pidge called a couple times as well, leaving a panicked voicemail after Keith failed to answer for the fifth time. He sent a single text, assuring them that yes, he was still alive, yes he saw that they called, and yes he would be over on Monday to study for his exam in organic chemistry like they planned.

Monday’s classes dragged by at a painful rate, so much so that Keith wanted to beat his head against a wall from insanity. Time seemed slower with the knowledge that Shiro lived in the same city as him. It was as if the world wanted him to use that extra time to torture himself over Shiro, to stew over his wrongs for longer than he already had. Logically, that wasn’t the case at all, time passed the same way it always had, unconcerned and uninvolved with the affairs of those that measured it. Keith thought that was bullshit.

Pidge and Hunk’s apartment was only a short bus ride away and was thankfully empty enough that he could sit and stare out the window. The city scape turned more suburban as the bus headed southwest toward Beaverton. Keith always felt a little more relaxed at Pidge and Hunk’s, most likely because of the peaceful quiet and lack of city traffic. He got off at the stop for their apartment and walked down the small hill to the complex they lived at, passing the dingy, rowdy bar on the corner of the street. No doubt they would end up there tonight after Pidge finished quizzing him. It was tradition, albeit an expensive one that always ended with an Uber ride home and a hangover for his eight a.m. class on Tuesday.

He entered their apartment without knocking, greeted by a bear hug from Hunk who wore a stained apron and smelled strongly of garlic. Pidge sat at their kitchen table, bent over a textbook and writing furiously, their natural state of being. Keith sat down beside them, dumping his belongings on the table with an uncermonious thud. They didn’t look up. Hunk only smiled sweetly at Pidge, returning to whatever sinfully wonderful creation he was cooking.

It would be a lie to say that Keith wasn’t jealous of their relationship. Hunk and Pidge had been dating since before Keith moved to Portland and friends a long time before even that. The way Hunk explained it once was that when they agreed to move intogether, their friendship started to tiptoe the border of platonic into romantic and it had been so seamless, so quiet, that neither of them noticed until someone asked them if they were dating and Pidge responded yes. It was sweet, adorable, and every other synonym how aloof the pair was to their own developing relationship. Keith couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than Hunk and Pidge together forever. Keith wouldn’t admit it, but he was a sucker for their romance.

Pidge drilled Keith relentlessly for the next three hours until he could recite the exact term definitions from memory and work out the answers to the formulas so quickly that Keith thought his brain might explode. They deemed him “passable” which Keith took as more than prepared for the exam. Organic chemistry was Pidge’s specialty after all and any acknowledgement of his improvement was a success in Keith’s book.

“How’s Shiro?” Keith shot Pidge a dirty look. They hadn’t even bothered to try and look innocent, a coy smile following their question.

“Who told you?”

“Lance needs to learn how to keep a secret, if that’s what you mean. No sooner had Veronica told him and he was texting Hunk about it.”

“Leave me out of this! I told you we shouldn’t get involved! It’s Keith’s business, not ours,” Hunk protested from the living room.

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts, Pidge. If Keith wants to tell us, he will when he’s ready. Right, buddy? You’ll tell us?” Hunk raised an eyebrow, a look that Keith was all too familiar with when Hunk was trying to placate him but also get what he wanted at the same time. More often than not it worked. It was how they got any information out of him when they first met and Keith had had no intention of making any friends.

“Shiro’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine to me,” Pidge sing-songed. “You actually sound a little, dare I say, upset.”

Well yeah, of course Keith was still upset.

“Come on, you never talk about him. Ever. We know you two were friends.”

“Leave it alone, Pidge. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Keith would have to tell them eventually. He just wasn’t ready yet to hear what they had to say about it. He and Pidge both knew that they would get the truth out of him eventually.

“Fine. Lets go get a drink.” Hunk whooped with faked excitement, doing his best to cut through the tension between Pidge and Keith. The other thing that Keith admired about their relationship? Hunk was really good at centering Pidge whenever they turned into a bullheaded jackass.

Keith’s eyes felt crusted shut the next morning when the sound of his alarm woke him up at six thirty. He weighed the pros and cons of getting out of bed to attend his first lecture of the day, cursing himself for signing up for an eight a.m. class. It seemed like a great idea at time, but now Keith just felt like an idiot as he laid in his bed. Propelled by his spat with Pidge at their apartment, Keith drank way too many beers. Several times Hunk insisted that they slow down. Keith and Pidge ignored him, determined to outdrink each other in whatever nonsensical game they were playing with one another. His memory was in tact up until his sixth beer and then it all became a little hazy.

He threw an arm out, patting and searching his bed for his phone to turn off the alarm. Several text notifications from an unknown number filled his phone screen. Keith cleared them and dropped his phone onto his chest, closing his eyes again. The pros of getting out of bed was a much shorter list than the cons as Keith stacked them up against each other. Staying in bed won out. And no doubt his professor would appreciate Keith puking in her lecture hall anyway. With that important decision made, Keith rolled over onto his side, burying his phone underneath his body and his comforter. He drifted off to sleep, grateful for the blackout curtains that would soon shield his bedroom from the rising sun.

An hour later, Keith woke again, this time to the vibration of his phone. He groaned as he searched for it once more. Another text message from that unknown number. Keith opened his messages and selected the conversation with Pidge first.

 

**Pidge:** hey did you mak it back

**Pidge:** kieht!!!!

**Pidge:** if you dont answer when i call you, im to goign call the polka

**Keith:** im alve and hoe stop caling me pidge

**Pidge:** oooook

 

_What the fuck?_ Keith did not remember sending any of that. He sent back a thumbs up. Now to address the unknown number.

 

**Keith:** hey this is keith lance gave pidge your number and pidge gave it to me so now i have it

**Keith:** this is not me beng cool with you, im vry mad at u nd wanted u to know that im mad

**Keith:** i hope you had a good monday

 

Keith realized with horror exactly who the unknown number was.

 

**Shiro:** Keith, are you drunk?

**Keith:** yes i am

**Shiro:** It’s a Monday.

**Keith:** im still mad at u, just so u know

**Shiro:** Yeah, I could tell on Friday. And again now. Are you safe?

**Keith:** why do u care!

**Keith:** im safe, im with pidge and hunk my friends who wont leave me ever

**Shiro:** I still care about you, Keith. Do you need a ride home? I can come get you.

**Shiro:** Keith where are you?

**Keith:** no im just uber

**Shiro:** Where are you? Drop a pin and I’ll pick you up.

**Keith:** no

**Keith dropped a pin.**

**Shiro:** I’ll be there soon, just wait there, okay?

 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did Lance give Pidge Shiro’s number? And why did Pidge give it to him? Keith kept reading.

 

**Shiro:** Hey, I know you’re asleep probably, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You seemed really pissed at Pidge last night and they seem like a really good friend to you, even if they upset you. If you need anything, or ever want to talk, you’ve got my number now. Hope you don’t feel like shit in the morning.

 

Shiro was too goddamned polite which automatically made him insufferable in Keith’s mind. Who else would have come and picked up their drunk friend at two in the morning despite being in a one-sided feud? Hunk might, but he was otherwise it. Keith’s stomach turned. He raced to the en suite, emptying his stomach to the porcelain gods.

Keith stumbled out of his organic chemistry exam feeling depleted and exhausted. Despite his hangover and having to race to the bathroom every hour, he felt confident that he aced the exam. His professor looked a little horrified, and a little impressed, by the speediness with which Keith finished and the haggard look on his face. Now all Keith wanted to do was crash back into his bed and forget that he texted Shiro. Part of him wanted to delete Shiro’s number from his phone, but he knew he would just ask Pidge for it again, so that was pointless to even consider.

Thankfully, Shiro remained silent the rest of the day. Keith hoped that he was aware that what happened last night was a one off, that it wouldn’t happen again. It annoyed Keith how readily Shiro offered to come pick him up and take him home, as if he was just sitting there waiting for the opportunity to try and make up with him. In reality, Keith knew that Shiro was really just a nice guy and would probably offer the same for anyone in his same position. But he was a little spiteful, a lot hungover, and wanted to be selfish for just a few more minutes.

After a quick stop for coffee on his way home, Keith collapsed onto his couch with a grateful sigh, an arm tossed over his eyes. He laid there for a few minutes, entertaining the idea of never getting up again when the buzzer for his apartment sounded, dashing any hopes he had of peace and quiet. He got up and pressed the button by his door, talking into it.

“Hello?” Keith wasn’t expecting any visitors, and when he was, they always texted him to let him know they were there. He also hadn’t ordered anything from Amazon lately, so that couldn’t be it.

_“Hey it’s me.”_ Shiro’s voice crackled through the small comms box, sounding as cheery as ever. He must have walked Keith up to his apartment last night which filled Keith with disdain. Now that Shiro had his number and knew where he lived, it would be that much easier for Shiro to butt his way into Keith’s life. “ _I just stopped by to make sure you’re alive. You didn’t text back. I mean, I figured you were fine but you drank a lot and I was worried.”_

“I’m alive. You can go now.”

_“Hey, I uh.. I brought you something. Can I come up?”_ Hell no. There was no fucking way that Keith was going to let Shiro into his apartment, not after last night, not after two and a half years ago, not for a dead ass long time. He wasn’t done being angry or petty.

“Leave it with the receptionist, Shiro.”

_“Keith-”_ **__ **

Keith buzzed him in and returned to his couch where he contemplated wasting away. Maybe if he laid there long enough, the world would forget about his existence and he could just be alone for a little while to process this massive interruption in his life. His therapist’s voice rang in his head, reminding him that disappearing and ignoring his problems was unhealthy. But so was alcohol. He waited for Shiro’s knock at his apartment door for longer than he should have. It never came and Keith found himself almost disappointed by that fact. His phone rang: a call from the receptionist.

“Hey Keith, this really hot guy dropped off some food for you and left.” Sarah’s familiar voice gushed through the speaker. “If you don’t come down and get it, I swear I’m going to eat it all. Why didn’t you invite him up?”

“Eat my food and I’ll file a complaint,” Keith deadpanned, heaving himself off of his couch again. “I’ll be right down.”

Shiro was being insufferably nice again and Keith couldn’t stand it. As he sat in his apartment, inhaling the mountain of Thai food Shiro delivered, Keith ignored the way his heart warmed that Shiro still remembered his favorite food.


	4. dancin' in circles

**Keith:** thanks.

 

That one simple text made Shiro so giddy that he felt like a helpless idiot. It was a small token of good will, one that Shiro hoped would make a good impression upon Keith. More than likely it wouldn’t, but a man could dream, right?

He was still a little shell shocked by how easily Keith agreed to get in his car once Shiro arrived at the dingy bar to pick him up Monday night. Shiro expected a long-winded monologue about why he wasn’t going to do it, maybe even go off about how much he hated him or something like that. Instead, Keith came outside when Shiro texted him, crawled into the front seat, and pressed his forehead against the passenger window, offering directions to his apartment when prompted. Keith mumbled about forgetting his backpack and something about Kolivan, before passing out as soon as they pulled up to his building.

Shiro also couldn’t help but remember how nice Keith smelled, citrusy and clean, and how warm his arm was around Shiro’s shoulders. It felt right, only made better if Keith were sober at the time. There would be time for that later, Shiro hoped.

Thankfully it was easy to put that thought to rest. Allura texted him non stop about their upcoming practice schedule, some social engagements that were necessary to attend, what interviews he was interested, and more. It was endless, and despite the tinge of annoyance Shiro now felt every time his phone pinged with another text, he was glad for the distraction. And Allura’s insane dedication was appreciated, Shiro decided as an afterthought.

After a thorough series of stretches, Shiro began his weight training, letting the routine of his workout take over. The familiarity of being in the gym comforted him like a child with their favorite worn down blanket. With his favorite workout playlist pumping through his headphones, Shiro began moving from one exercise to the next, tuning out the noise and chaos of the rest of the people around him. It was safe to say that after the dance floor, the gym was Shiro’s home, a place where he felt comfortable, where everything felt right. Did some people think he spent an absurd amount of time working out? Yes. Did they call him a dum jock sometimes? Absolutely. But Shiro didn’t give a single fuck.

Shiro found himself thinking about Keith more than he would ever truthfully admit aloud. This Keith, the one that wanted so much to hate him, was familiar and yet altogether a different person that Shiro struggled to recognize. The mannerisms were there: the quick, but careful way he spoke, how he ducked his head and his hair fell in his face, the closed mouth smile, and the red hot anger that flashed without a warning. There was a new confidence to Keith that hadn’t been there before which interested Shiro far more than anything or anyone had in a long time. But it was evident that Keith wanted no part of Shiro from the way he brushed him off.Shiro possessed some hope though. After all, Keith had decided to show up to drinks at Departure and texted Shiro when he was drunk. He hoped that maybe Keith was really just putting up a front, presenting a wall as challenge. Maybe there would be a chance for them again.

But no, Shiro imagined that it would take a lot of convincing and cajoling, and a fuck ton of apologies before Keith would even think twice about something like that.

“Dude, are you done with the machine or not?”

Shiro jumped, realizing that he had been hogging the chest press for a little too long. Without further acknowledging the incident, Shiro grabbed his small notebook and left the machine to make way for someone else. Thinking about Keith made it difficult to focus on his workout and he lost count of how many reps he had done. Try as he might, Shiro just couldn’t push the thought of him out of his mind, drawn back each time to the twist of Keith’s mouth, his broad shoulders, the humor in his voice. It was as if some higher power designed him to be a pain in Shiro’s ass.

With his workout sabotaged with no hope of recovering it, Shiro left the gym and took the elevator back up to his apartment where Black waited impatiently at the door, yowling like he had never been fed before in his life. Black was none too happy about his new diet, but the veterinary assured Shiro that he would see results pretty soon and that the chunky black cat, aptly named, would get used to the change eventually. Shiro doubted that from the betrayed look in Black’s eyes.

 

**Allura:** Hey, do you have a minute?

**Shiro:** Yeah, what’s up?

**Allura:** I’m looking for some music for Pacifica and I can’t decide which ones I like best. Can you help me narrow it down to two?

**Shiro:** Sure, just send me the tracks and I’ll give them a listen.

**Allura:** You are a saint, Shiro. An absolute saint.

**Allura:** How’s Portland?

 

How _was_ Portland? It was alright so far, if Allura wanted honesty. There was no point in worrying her about what was going on with Keith. And it wasn’t that Shiro didn’t think she wouldn’t care, no. He worried that it was too much to dump on her, considering that whatever Lotor did to her happened less than two months ago. Maybe once she arrived in Portland and they were settled and rehearsing, maybe then he would tell her.

 

**Shiro:** It’s beautiful. You’ll love it here, I’m sure of it. I’ve already found a studio willing to rent their space out to us when they don’t have lessons.

**Allura:** I’m excited to be there. Only a few more days and I’ll be there! My shoot with Dance is tomorrow and then we’ll finish packing and then flying out. See you soon, Shiro.

**Shiro:** Talk to you later.

 

Black rubbed up against his shin, purring loud enough that it sounded more like a cell phone vibrating than a cat. Shiro wondered how Keith felt about cats.

Later that afternoon Shiro sat at his laptop with his headphones on, listening to the selection of songs that Allura emailed him. They were all wonderful pieces and he could already see the choreography falling together in his mind as he listened to each. Shiro preferred the quicker songs, ones that played to his strong suit, the quick step. Pacifica was a smaller national competition and it would be Shiro and Allura’s first competion as partners, so it was extremely important that they start off on the right foot. He knew from watching Allura’s performances that she would more than likely choose a song they could build a waltz too, and Shiro was fine with that. He didn’t want to step on her toes.

Shiro finished the last track, scribbling what notes he could think of about the fiery tune that could easily become a salsa. The step pattern was simple, one, two, three, pause, four, five, six, pause, repeat. A duck there, a kick here. He played the song again, working out how he would rest his hand on Keith’s waist, his fingers burning at the teasing feel of his skin under his dress shirt, or how he would dip Keith to the ground, running his hand up and down his chest. Then Shiro would-

No, he couldn’t do that. Shiro was starting down a dangerous train of thought, one that he most definitely was not ready for under any circumstances. He was confident in his feelings for Keith and knew he wanted him. But if any of that were to come to pass, it meant admitting that he, Takashi Shirogane, the most sought after ballroom dancer and bachelor, was not straight. Not that there weren’t rumors about any male ballroom dancer that ever existed. The two and a half years he spent in Japan with his family granted Shiro the opportunity to come to terms with his identity out of the spotlight. His mother was the first he told.

Shiro had been terrified to tell her. Of course Shiro knew that she would be accepting and would still love him, she made sure that he knew that since he was a child. But there was still that fear that maybe this was where she would draw the line, that the bond betweent them would bend and break under the weight of his secret. He needn’t have worried. She pulled him into her arms, wiped away the tears that spilled from his eyes, assuring him that she would welcome anyone he loved with open arms into her home, no questions asked.

That reassurance didn’t extend to some of his other, more traditional family members at first, but after they realized that nothing about Shiro had actually changed, equilibrium was restored. With the pressure no longer on his shoulders, Shiro finally felt like he could live his life the way he dreamt of back in the United States. There was still plenty of time for that though now that he was back doing what he loved.

Allura got it out of him pretty quickly into their partnership after she asked him if there were any lovers or significant others that might be a distraction, or if he would become distracted by her. At the time the answer to both was no, no lovers, no significant others, and no, he would not become distracted because women weren’t his type. She continued on without missing a beat, almost as if that were the answer she expected the whole time. Shiro’s sexuality was never brought up again.

Shiro typed out a quick email to Allura with his song choices and choreography notes, wished her the best, closing his laptop once he finished. They only had a month until Pacifica, and having never danced together, the time to become acquainted on the dance floor and flesh out choreography for two dances was limited. It was certainly unorthodox, the way they were going about things. It made Shiro feel a little uneasy that he had not danced with Allura before, so he didn’t know her quirks or the feel of her in his arms, not the way he still knew his old partner. The whole thing was an enormous risk, and despite Coran’s constant reassurance, Shiro felt as if it could come tumbling down around him just as quick as they had built it up.

Black snored from his perch on the hammock suction cupped to the window, sprawled on his back with his paws in the air. Shiro dreamed of the day he could sleep with such abandon, envious of his own cat. The buzz of his phone on the dining table woke Black up, who blinked sleepily at Shiro before falling back asleep. It was a text from his mother, who was just starting her day in Japan. She wrote in Japanese because she refused to let Shiro forget his first language, as if years of speaking the language could be forgotten overnight.

 

**Mom:** Did you talk to that boy yet? You haven’t called me since you moved. I’m starting to think that you forgot about me.

**Shiro:** You are too wonderful to forget about, Mom.

**Shiro:** And you pester me relentlessly so I definitely won’t.

**Mom:** Shiro, you ungrateful child. Answer my question. Have you talked to Keith?

 

Shiro sighed, going back and forth between which version of the truth he would share with her. She was of course aware of his feelings for Keith, and how instead of facing them, he moved home and took a sabbatical from ballroom dancing. The Shirogane matriarch refused to speak to him for two hours after learning that, because after two hours she had to ask him to help her carry in groceries.

 

**Shiro:** I saw him last week when I met with Veronica. He’s going to school for astrophysics.

**Mom:** Ah Veronica! What a lovely girl! Are they going to be at Pacifica?

**Shiro:** He isn’t dancing.

**Mom:** What a waste of talent! You tell him that he needs to dance again! Otherwise there will be no competition for you and you will win too easily. You need someone that can compete with you! What is his number, I will text him and tell him myself.

**Shiro:** Mom, no. Leave it alone.

**Mom:** I’m serious Shiro.

**Mom:** Does he know about Lance? Please tell me you at least told him about Lance.

**Shiro:** It hasn’t come up, no. The timing hasn’t really been the best.

**Mom:** …

**Shiro:** I will soon.

**Mom:** Oh Takashi, sometimes you are so simple.

**Shiro:** Thanks, Mom.

**Mom:** I love you! Call me soon!

**Shiro:** Love you too.

 

A little later an email from Allura:

 

_Shiro,_

 

_Thanks for listening through the samples I sent you. I read your notes for the ones you chose and I really like where it’s headed. I’ve got a few notes myself for how we can improve it. Coran and I are finished packing and everything is loaded in the truck and we will be there soon! I’m so excited to see Portland and to start practicing! Coran says that we have a pretty high chance of bringing a trophy home. He scoped out the competition and it shouldn’t be too tough if we get in enough practice._

_Are you nervous that Lance will be there? He has definitely come into his own since the last time I saw him dance a few years ago. I hope he doesn’t distract you, and vice versa. I want you to be in the right mind set for Pacifica. It’s important that we start out with a strong performance._

_Anyway, I’ve got the shoot early tomorrow morning so I need to get some rest. I’ll see you on Friday!_

 

_All the best,_

 

_Allura_


	5. when it's raining

Keith’s flight to Colorado was quick and uneventful. Kolivan waited for him outside the terminal, scanning the few departing passengers for Keith. A flash of a smile crossed the man’s face upon seeing Keith before settling back into its usual gruff front. Besides a few phone calls and texts and a brief trip back at the end of May, Keith hadn’t seen or spoken to Kolivan much at all. Keith wondered if Kolivan knew about Shiro’s return and if he did, how long it would take him to bring it up while they camped.

Kolivan thankfully had a much different idea of camping than Keith’s father had. Keith’s father preferred to rough it in a small tent with a blow up mattress that always deflated halfway through the night and freezing in the cool night time temperature. Kolivan glamped. His camper wasn’t the most luxurious out there, but it had beds, a kitchen, and heat. Having a bathroom was also really nice, but Keith didn’t enjoy having to empty it when Kolivan asked. Every year for Kolivan’s birthday they would load up the camper and spend a weekend at the Lake Fork fishing, hiking and drinking, Kolivan’s three favorite activities right after running Keith’s life.

Kolivan clasped Keith’s shoulder, squeezing it a little too tight for Keith’s liking.

“How was the flight?”

“Fine. I slept through most of it.” Keith hoisted the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder as they walked out of the small airport and to Kolivan’s Jeep. “Did you already get the camper ready?”

“Yeah, it’s at the site. Just have to stop at the store and grab a few groceries. Fishing hasn’t been super great this year, so I don’t want to depend on the trout for food. The water is low.”

“Not as much snow last winter?”

Kolivan shook his head as he drove out of the parking lot and back toward the rest of town. Keith watched out the passenger window as they passed by the familiar streets and buildings of his home town. Nothing had really changed since his last visit, except that the new patio at Mario’s was finally open. After spending so much time in the city, being back home felt unnerving and too quiet. The man that owned the outdoors shop talked their ear off when they stopped for bait, teasing Keith about his big city life.

There were parts of his hometown that Keith missed, like the peaceful rolling of the Gunnison river, the chili pepper beer at High Alpine, and the afternoon rain that broke the sky open for an hour and then disappeared as quickly as it arrived. As he and Kolivan walked around City Market collecting what few groceries they would need to get through the weekend, a small part of Keith yearned to be back home living an uncomplicated life spending the winter snowboarding and the summers biking. But Western State would have bored him to death and the knowing, judging eyes of his uncle would have made it unbearable.

They made it to the camper before sunset, cracking open a few beers and sitting around the small firepit Kolivan set up. Kolivan had something to say, the unspoken words palpable and radiating from where he sat next to Keith. Waiting for Kolivan to speak put Keith on edge; after all he learned his outspokenness from his uncle.

“Just get it out, whatever it is,” Keith said, peeling at the corner of the beer bottle label.

“Has he tried to talk to you?” He was impressed; Kolivan lasted longer than he thought he would before asking about Shiro.

“I met up with him and Veronica last week.” Keith took a drink from his beer. “We’ve talked once since then. Allura’s in Portland now so I’m sure he will be busy with her and practicing for Pacifica.”

“Did he apologize?”

“No. I don’t expect him to either.” The sun dipped behind the mountains and the dark violet of the night sky settled around him, the stars and the fire their only light. Keith also missed this. He couldn’t see the stars because of the all the city lights. The comfort of the night breeze and the stars made talking about Shiro easier. “I’d like to think that I’ve grown a little since all of that happened. I’m not going to go running back to him now that he’s available.”

“That’s not- I didn’t mean to insinuate that, Keith. I know you can handle yourself. It’s Shiro I don’t believe in.”

This vulnerability was new. Kolivan had been indifferent when Keith broke down over Shiro leaving, stating simply that it was for the better because Shiro was a distraction from what really mattered: winning. Keith didn’t like vulnerable. The pair sat in silence sipping their beers for a few minutes before Kolivan spoke again.

“I want you to focus on what’s important, Keith. Your education is important and you’re going to go far and I don’t want to see him try to pull that shit again. I know we disagree on pretty much everything-”

“I wonder where I got that from.” Kolivan shot him a look.

“You’re my nephew and I care about you. You deserve happiness.”

“Did you read a parenting book, Kolivan?” Kolivan laughed in that throaty way of his that Keith knew meant he was truly amused and not just full of shit.

“You’re such a punk, Keith.”

“You raised me.”

They spent the next two hours reminicsing about previous camping trips finishing a six pack of beer each while the temperature dropped. With the buzz of alcohol in his blood, Keith waited until the fire burned down to embers before heading inside the camper. The next two days would be early mornings of fishing, hiking, and his uncle’s solemn silence. He needed to be well rested if he was going to make it through the weekend.

The weekend passed by relatively quickly and painlessly. Kolivan didn’t mention Shiro again, limiting their already minimal conversation to updates on his life and asking about Keith’s classes. They celebrated Kolivan’s birthday with steaks, beer, and s’mores where Kolivan attempted to ask Keith about his love life only to be shot down with a very pointed glare. Despite that, Keith wished he could stay longer, if only for one more day. But there were classes to attend and reality to face back in Portland.

Rather than listening to the flight attendants’ safety spiel, Keith scoured social media and dance blogs for any and all photos of Shiro and Allura together. Her whirlwind appearance in Portland made quite a splash, renewing the gossip surrounding her fallout with Lotor Valachovic. There were also several rumors that Lotor would be at Pacifica, though none of them were confirmed by his mother Honerva Valachovic-Summers or his coach, Sendak Pukelsheim.

Keith browsed one article after another, reading about the ballroom dancing world’s expectations for the new power couple, with a smiling photo of the pair pasted at the top. They attended some event while Keith was out of town. The pair were dressed to the nines, Shiro dressed similarly to the night at Departure, Allura in a gauzy soft pink dress. They looked perfect together, Shiro’s hand pressed to the small of her back, a dazzling smile on both their faces. Every inch of Keith burned to be in Allura’s place, pressed into the curve of Shiro’s arm with their eyes only on each other.

Embarrassed by that thought and the heat rushing through his body, Keith switched his phone off for the flight back to Portland. The reality of his situation overwhelmed the idealism Keith briefly suffered from: Shiro fucked him over and he wasn’t Keith’s. Someday Keith would get that through his thick skull.

Music from Keith’s headphones drowned out most of the airplane’s noise and chatter of the other passengers. It was easy to block out life around him when the words of Keith’s favorite songs could carry him away into a world where everything going on his life was insignificant, unimportant. Absolved of embarrassment by how quickly Shiro affected him, Keith closed his eyes and lost himself for just a little bit longer.

Keith woke a few hours later just as the plane started to descend over Portland, the last of the sun setting on the horizon. The city lights winked at him from below, growing closer and closer until the plane turned toward the airport, and then they were gone. They landed with little fanfare and Keith collected his duffel bag from overhead. While he made his way off the plane, Keith turned his phone back on, waiting for the rush of notifications to come in. With little hesitation, his phone buzzed with text after text from Pidge, Veronica, Lance, and even an old friend, Rolo.

“Stop staring at your phone and move, dude,” snapped a voice behind him. Keith shoved his phone into his pocket and walked up the aisle and off the plane. The texts could wait until he go back to his apartment, so Keith cleared the notifications and called for an Uber to take him home. The driver made some small talk, asking Keith about his flight, where he went, the usual friendly things a person asks. Keith offered short answers, watching the cars fly by as they approached the bridge into the city. The view into downtown Portland never failed to fill him with awe, from the skyline to the riverboats, to the mountains in the background. It almost reminded him of home.

He shot Kolivan a quick text, letting him know that he made it back in one piece. Kolivan’s reply was a single thumb’s up emoji. Keith wondered where Kolivan learned to use emojis, but didn’t spend too long dwelling on the idea of his uncle trying to stay hip and with the times.

Keith stepped into his apartment, dropping his belongings by the front door to deal with later. He told himself that he would unpack after class the next day, but realistically he wouldn’t until he couldn’t find one of his shirts and was forced to root through his bags. Lounging on his couch was preferable to any responsibilities anyway. There was little on cable TV to watch, just disappointing stories on the news and shitty dramas that didn’t hold his interest. He settled on watching one of the Fast and Furious movies that he had seen at least a dozen times over, just to have some noise so he felt a little less alone. Keith needed to surround himself in noise, whether from the swell of music or the chatter of tv personalities. The sound of another voice in his apartment comforted him.

 

 **Veronica:** hey can i call?

 **Keith:** yes

 

“Hello?”

“Keith, did you hear what happened?” Veronica spoke so quickly that Keith could barely understand what she was saying. “I don’t know what I’m going to do! I have to be at Pacifica this year and-”

“Veronica, what’s going on? You’re scaring me!” Keith sat upright and put Veronica on speaker phone. He opened Google on his phone, trying to search Veronica’s name to see what was going on.

“Kinkade! He broke his fucking leg doing some dumbass stunt on his motorcycle. I swear to God if he wasn’t already in pain I would break his other leg, Keith. I’m going to have to drop out of Pacifica and I can’t afford that! Not after all the time I’ve spent on preparing for it. I mean I’m glad that Kinkade’s going to be okay but he won’t be able to perform for several months, if ever again and I just…”

“Slow down, V.” Veronica’s panic wasn’t unfounded. While Pacifica was a smaller competition, it was a prestigious invite-only one and whoever came out on top usually went on to lead at larger events around the world.

“I knew going into this that we probably weren’t going to win, but at least being invited to dance at Pacifica with a half-decent partner is better than not getting to go at all.” Veronica sobbed into the phone and Keith felt the all too familiar prickling of guilt in his chest. It wasn’t too late for her to find another partner, but it would be difficult to find one that was free for the whole competitive season. If she could find someone for Pacifica, that would give her time to search for a partner for the rest of the season. Midterms were still a few weeks away; most of them were projects or lab hours anyway. “Fuck, this is just the worst. I didn’t know who else to talk to, I’m sorry. I know you just got back from Colorado.”

“Veronica, it’s fine. You can call me whenever.”

“I know, I know. Also, I don’t want you to feel like any of this is your fault.”

“I’m-I’m not.” Keith could almost see Veronica’s eyes roll.

“I’m not going to argue about it. Anyway. You get some rest. I’m going to figure out what to do next. Kinkade’s at the hospital right now and I’m contemplating stuffing my face with Mexican food from that place Lance is always talking about.”

“Hey, V?”

“Yeah?”

Keith’s heart pounded in his chest at such a rapid pace that he felt like it might implode like a star gone super nova. There was no rational reason for him to be so nervous to volunteer to dance with Veronica. It was just one time, he told himself.

“I’ll dance with you.”

Veronica sat silent on the other end of the phone call, so quiet that Keith thought she either hung up, or passed out.

“Veronica? Hello?” He finally heard the intake of her breath followed by a sniffle.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll get you through Pacifica, which gives you some time to find a partner if that’s what you want to do. I’m out of shape-”

“I don’t care if you’ve grown a third leg, Keith. This is- this means so much to me. Thank you, thank you! I’ll convince Lance to let me take over his roommate’s room or something so that we can start practicing. I’ll book a flight tonight!”

Veronica went on for a little while longer, ironing out all the details. Keith couldn’t help but feel a little piece of his old self fall back into place while he listened to Veronica talk about the music selections and costumes. It felt like coming home.


	6. a velvet tongue

Shiro wiped off the sweat that beaded on his forehead while he lay on the cool wood floor of the dance studio he and Allura practiced at. They were on day three of Allura’s rigorous rehearsal schedule and Shiro was grateful for the small, but regular breaks she permitted them (most of them occurred when the dance studio had classes going on). The last two nights Shiro had fallen into bed, his whole body sore and aching from the ten hour rehearsal sessions. No amount of cardio or weight lifting prepared him for the quick steps and lifts that Allura choreographed for them. Allura promised that they would cut down the hours once she felt more comfortable with their performance.

Things were rocky. The duo were not on the same page, their bodies mismatched and fighting against one another. Allura claimed that it would only take a few days to work out the kinks, but the expression on her face after they left their first day of rehearsal hinted otherwise. But she hadn’t been wrong; they were adjusting to each other and working together to combine their two styles of performing. Shiro was still used to being the dominant one in a partnership and so was Allura. There was plenty of time for them to iron all of that out.

During one of the breaks, Shiro read up on Kinkade’s accident and found himself wondering what Veronica planned on doing. The journalist who wrote the article about Kinkade’s bone-breaking motorcycle stunt wrote that she tried to reach out to Veronica McClain for comments but received no word back. Shiro’s texts also went mostly unanswered except for a quick ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m fine’ when he asked how she was doing. No doubt she was devastated by the accident and what it meant for her career, but it was unlike Veronica to talk to him about it. After all, when Keith stopped dancing, Veronica racked up his phone bill when she called Shiro while he navigated the streets of his hometown in Japan, just to yell at him and call him a coward and an idiot.

The whole situation was ironic, really. Had the accident happened a few weeks earlier, Shiro could have had a dance partner he knew he was compatible and comfortable with. He could be in sunny California eating poke and not filled with the constant reminder that he was in the same city as Keith. But life didn’t work the way he wanted it to and that was that. No point dwelling on it, no matter how sorry Shiro felt for his friend. He sent her another text message, just to check in and let her know that he was thinking of her, before forcing himself up off of the floor for the last two hours of rehearsal. Allura waited patiently, fixing her hair into a perfectly coiled bun on top of her head. Shiro found himself fascinated by the simple action and by the strange nature of her white hair.

The simple answer: vitiligo. The skin condition caused the depigmentation of her skin at a young age, progressing over time to affect even her hair’s coloring. Light patches disrupted the otherwise dark tones of Allura’s skin and she embraced it. Shiro remembered reading in one of her interviews that Allura refused to use any makeup to cover the discoloration of her skin, that she felt confident the way she was despite the strange looks she often received. Shiro couldn’t help but admit that that particular interview helped him come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t attracted to women the way his brother was, the way most men he interacted with were. His own journey to confidence came years after Allura’s but the sentiment was still there, tugging on the strings of his heart.

“Lets start from the top. I’m still getting the footwork in that transition all mucked up,” Allura said with a grin. She had used a lot of Shiro’s notes, incorporating a decent amount of his ideas into the final piece, and the tricky steps of the transition she spoke of was thanks to Shiro. Without risk there was no reward, and they both wanted to come out of the gates swinging.

“You’ll have it down in no time, I’m sure of it. If we move the lifts back, it might be a little easier to sweep into that middle section.” Shiro settled his hand on her waist, firm, but appropriate, professional. Allura shook her head no.

“We’re going to keep it the way it is. I don’t want to make any sacrifices unless we absolutely have to. We both know that there’s a lot riding on this.”

“If you’re worried about Lotor-”

“I’m not.” The sharpness of Allura’s voice spoke volumes about how she really felt. Despite her otherwise collected demeanor, Shiro could tell that whatever Lotor had done to betray her trust dug its claws into her deep. Her quiet anger laid just under the surface of her perfect mask. Normally Shiro wouldn’t dig but he felt the need to dig a little deeper.

“I don’t believe that, but okay.” Shiro didn’t wait for her response; he started moving them through the quick step, counting the steps in his head. He watched Allura’s face throughout, the narrowing of her eyes and her pursed lips the few signs of her anger. She stumbled only once through the transition and it was their best run through yet. The magic was ruined though when Shiro tripped over his own foot and went sprawling, landing on his right shoulder with a loud thud. Pain radiated throughout; it would definitely be bruised come the next morning. Allura knelt by his side.

“Shiro, are you alright?” She sounded genuinely concerned and Shiro immediately felt ashamed for trying to antagonize her. Shiro sat up, rolling his shoulder a few times until the pain began to subside.

“I’ll be fine.” Allura helped Shiro to his feet, watching him closely as he started to massage his shoulder.

“Lets call it a day. And take tomorrow off. We could both use a day to rest.”

“That’s not necessary Allura, I told you I’m fine.” Allura changed out of her dance shoes, slipping on a pair of sneakers.

“I know. But we’re both tired and a little grouchy. Nothing good will come of that. So lets just take a break tomorrow and come back on Friday well rested and refreshed.”

“Yeah, alright,” Shiro acquiesced, unwilling to argue with her so early on.

“See you Friday Shiro. Don’t forget that we’re going to that after-party Friday night.” Allura left, her small duffel bag hanging over one shoulder.

Shiro stared at himself in the mirrors that lined the studio’s northern wall. The slump of his shoulders and the sad, puppy dog look of his eyes made him look away quickly.

Shiro took advantage of the opportunity to sleep in the next day, even going so far as to lie in bed and watch a movie on Netflix, Black curled up against his side. The domesticity of the situation was a nice reprise after three days of ten hour rehearsals and his body was even thanking him for the rest. His shoulder still ached after tripping the night before, a spectacular purple bruise blossoming over night. He didn’t think it was necessary to see a doctor, but Shiro told himself that if the pain continued past the next week, he would go to a clinic. There was no point in worrying Allura unless he had to.

As it always did, the restlessness that accompanied his busy lifestyle came calling and forced Shiro out of bed and into the kitchen, the pang of hunger matched by Black’s whining over his empty food bowl. Shiro fed Black while he decided what he wanted to do. There was food in the fridge, but there was also that diner just a few blocks away that boasted the largest breakfast platter. Fried potatoes and chicken fried chicken sounded much more appetizing than egg whites and turkey bacon anyway. He packed a small duffel bag for the gym and left the building. Fall seemingly arrived over night, the cool crisp air causing Shiro’s skin to turn into gooseflesh. The streets were oddly quiet for a weekday. Shiro took his time walking to the diner, enjoying having the sidewalk to himself while he walked the four blocks.

The diner was small and warm inside, the chatter of its patrons heard only between the whirring of the espresso machine and a blender. Shiro ordered a plain coffee, the first he’d had in longer than he cared to remember, and the breakfast platter that he had heard so much about. He sipped his coffee while he scrolled through social media on his phone. Facebook was boring anymore; most of his ‘friends’ only shared recipes from Tasty or argued politics, getting into fights. Twitter was no better, and he got tired of looking at the same posed photos on Instagram. There wasn’t much going on in the way of gossip in the dance world either. Kinkade’s accident was the last big break in news and there was only so much Shiro could read about that too.

With little to read or look at, Shiro found his mind wandering to Keith. Would Keith go to support anyone at Pacifica now that Veronica wasn’t going to be there? Lance had not been invited this year, which wasn’t much of a surprise due to his inactivity and lack of a partner the last few years. That begged the next question: had Lance told Keith about his time abroad? Shiro hadn’t asked what story Lance fed Keith during his time in Japan, and the younger man didn’t seem inclined to tell him either. Lance was a late bloomer to the world of ballroom dancing, coming into it only after he saw Veronica’s success. Shiro remembered seeing him at juniors competitions, impressed by Lance’s sheer determination to catch up. He lacked the confidence though, falling short by mere inches. His false bravado only went so far and that’s why he sought out Shiro in Japan, insisting that he be taught by a reigning champion.

It would have been nice to see Lance at Pacifica though, to have him be given the chance to prove himself. Shiro had no doubt that he would surprise everyone at the next competition he attended with his partner, Romelle.

With his breakfast now in front of him, Shiro pushed the thoughts aside and dug into his meal with a vengeance. It was incredible, lakers of fried chicken, hash browns, and an omelette smothered in sausage gravy. Shiro took his time, bite after bite until he couldn’t stomach eating anymore. Half of the meal remained on his plate as he sat back and stretched, glad that he wore a pair of joggers instead of jeans or tighter pants. A wave of lethargy washed over Shiro while he paid for his meal, yawning as he handed the cashier his debit card.

“Our food tends to have that effect on people,” the cashier teased, passing Shiro’s card back to him.

“I’ll definitely be back again. Have a good day!”

Back outside again, Shiro ambled in the direction of his gym. The motivation to actually work out quickly drained out of him, so Shiro turned down a street that led to the dance studio, deciding to sneak in an hour or two of practice on his own. He wanted to work on a step sequence for another song, a piece that Shiro was sure Allura wouldn’t like because it was too sultry, too intimate. The chemistry just wasn’t there and would make the pass of his hand over her body seem forced and clinical. Shiro used to be able to pretend, to give the judges what they wanted, but things had changed.

Shiro dug his keys out of his pocket, finding the one to unlock the dance studio and then froze. The last person he ever expected to be inside was there, dancing, oblivious to Shiro standing at the door watching. Keith dropped Veronica’s hand and took an opportunity to use his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his face. Veronica said something to him, a playful grin lighting her face as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Shiro continued to watch as they picked up dancing again, a lively swing that he was immediately jealous of.

The way they paused and practiced one section at a time provided enough evidence to confirm what Shiro was already thinking: Keith was Veronica’s new, albeit secret, partner. Did anyone know about this new arrangement? No doubt Kolivan would be over the moon about Keith’s sudden decision to rejoin the world of ballroom dancing and was packing his bags right that minute.

Keith dipped Veronica low to the ground, holding her in that position until she said something that made him laugh. He let go of her and she dropped down to the ground, a wild grin on her face. Shiro wondered exactly how much convincing it had taken on Veronica’s part to get Keith to dance with her again and then immediately scratched that thought. Knowing Keith, it probably took little convincing at all. Were Shiro in his shoes, he would have jumped at the chance to put on his old dance shoes and be on the floor. Keith helped Veronica up, offering her both his hands. Veronica threw an arm around his shoulders, continuing the conversation that Shiro could only hope to make out. As she spoke, Veronica glanced at the door. Without skipping a beat, she made eye contact with Shiro, maintaining a sense of normalcy while she turned Keith further away from the door.

Shiro took the opportunity to scatter, quickly walking back to his apartment building. Allura had assured him that there weren’t any couples to really worry about. But what Shiro saw at the studio changed the game drastically. It made him nervous for the first time in years.

**Author's Note:**

> hi thanks for reading!! pls leave comments/kudos and let me know what you think!! i've created a playlist by the name "a silent poetry" on Spotify for your enjoyment. the songs aren't in order of the plot, but instead songs that inspired me while writing this first chapter. thanks!!!! <3


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